


Overwatch Poetry

by Vanyel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And to make me feel better about not writing anything longform for a while, Basically anytime I get another poetic inspiration for the fandom, I'm sorry about that btw, I've got stuff in the works I promise, Other, Poetry, This will probably be updated off and on for a while, collection, random stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 18:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10341618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyel/pseuds/Vanyel
Summary: Just going to be a collection of any poems I write within the Overwatch fandom. Because dang it, even if they aren't full fics, I still think they deserve their time in the sun.





	1. Rite

Standing over the stones, feeling the wind on his face for the first time in a year  
Every year, the first time. The only time. The rest was cold metal  
It was a few days late, but that was on purpose - the anniversary was for everyone else, and he couldn’t be there  
He stood over the stones, and let the heavy gun sink into the grass. His heavy boots creaked as he knelt  
Fingers steadily trembling in their thick gloves, brushing polished moss  
Tracing the image, the date, the name  
Feeling the empty earth underneath himself, under the dewy grass at dark noon  
A soft huff, like a laugh, like a sob  
He gave himself a flower  
A single flower, a weed, a dandelion like those that had lined the corn  
And then again he stands, with a grunt  
The scars are tucked away to the cold once more, the rifle in his hands  
Every year growing heavier, his eyes lowered  
And he walks away from his own grave  
He still has a job to do


	2. Sunset Ride

Where you going?

I’m fighting my way to the top of the bottom, covered in my own blood.

I’m hiding in the windblown sand with a six-shooter for a conscience.

I’m snapping at the hand that said it would feed me, because the last one said that too.

And where you been?

I’ve been curled in the corner hay watching a baby learn it’s too dry to cry.

I’ve been ground into the dust by every gold tooth and silver spoon around.

I’ve been howling back at the world that laughs at me, because I’m still here.

 

Where you going?

I’m sneaking back into the kitchen for one last bite in case I wake up tomorrow.

I’m sleeping til ten am on the floor of the gym in my boss’ coat.

I’m standing in the moment between moments with fire in my hand.

And where you been?

I’ve been thrown in a window, for once, instead of out.

I’ve been dangling on the edge of a cliff, laughing my ass off.

I’ve been learning to hold my tongue, but I still can’t always time it right.

 

Where you going?

I’m sifting through the rubble for the ashes of a good man gone bad.

I’m hitching a ride on the top of the next train out of town with no ticket.

I’m passing out on the bar while taking the long road to nowhere.

And where you been?

I’ve been laying flowers for a man handed a reputation no one could live up to.

I’ve been wearing red round my neck to remind myself where I came from.

I’ve been letting the wind blow me wherever my old friend Death is waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I forgot I'd submitted this to a poetry magazine before putting it on here.
> 
> And it got in.  
> But was disqualified because it was posted here.  
> And a lot of the editors were mad because they loved it.
> 
> At least you guys get access to something worthy of a magazine!


End file.
